The Depths of Insanity
by tibys
Summary: Marty Sinclair lost herself when Regulus died. She became a shell of a person, dead on the inside. This is a story about her life after the break out of Azkaban, her insanity and rebirth. written as a series of Oneshots, sequel to The Corruption of Marty!
1. Chapter 1: Teaching

_**A/N This is the Continuation of The Corruption of Marty. I Apologise for any errors in spelling etc. and i would also like to point out that this story will be as cannon as possible, but with some slight changes, for example Longbottom running a different way. all for the convenience of the story, bear with me! Hope you enjoy, reviews appreciated etc etc etc**_

_**cant guarantee uploads quickly or long chapters, i suppose ill upload when i start to procrastinate on essays, like i am now!**_

Chaos. It was my life, it surrounded me. And it proved that I was crazy.

Malfoy had come up with this silly plan, and I was no longer any use for anything other than fighting. So here I found myself, running after some silly children in the department of mysteries. How ridiculous it was for them really, to think, that they could defeat Us.

There was one I took an interest in, Longbottom. I was there, when his parents were tortured by Bella, I had revelled in their screams, just the memory of it caused chills, how elated I had been.

So different from the shell that I am now.

The boys footfalls fell heavily, echoing across the halls. He had broken away from the group, and I had given chase. Why should he be left out from what would surely befall the rest of the children? He shot a spell over his shoulder which narrowly missed me, but hit the death eater behind me, with an oomph he shot back to the floor stunned.

It was just me and the boy now, and he had nowhere else to run.

Longbottom spun around when he realized he had run into a dead end, a room with no doors except for the one I was blocking, his wand was held high, his chin raised in defiance. He must be a gryffindor.

I tsked, his wand was held too high, exposing his chest, his feet were too close together, no good for balance, and he was rigid, a sign of fear that would be the end of him.

"boy, Longbottom is it? What are you going to do to me with a stance like that?" I shook my head, a mocking smile gracing my face.

His eyes narrowed and yelled "stupefy!"

too easy, I flicked it away without a second thought. It exploded a glass bottle that it hit, at least he sent it with some power... there was potential here.

"loosen your grip on your wand, its making you rigid, takes longer to move quickly, harder for reflexes to save your life." a stinging hex erupted my wand, narrowly missing where his foot was, "feet apart Longbottom, better balance will bring you less pain"

I blocked another one of his spells

"whoever taught you how to hold your wand obviously wanted you to fail, you are blocking your neck but in the process leaving you chest down open for attack, like this Longbottom"

I positioned my wand correctly across my stomach, and relaxed my stance. He sent three more spells my way, all of which I flicked to the side. "less exaggerated movements like this" with a few flicks I sent out a rapid fire of well aimed stinging hexes that sent the boy scrambling back into the wall.

"why are you helping me!" he finally screamed out between hexes, I shrugged. Why was I helping him? I suppose I didnt like to see talent wasted, besides I was insane, wasnt that justification enough for things I did that didnt make sense?

"I hate sloppy fighters"

I relentlessly showered him with harmless hexes until he began to fix his biggest mistakes, all the while yelling at him what to improve.  
"wand lower!" "feet wider" "too much exaggerated movement, more wrist movement Longbottom!" "no no no use your arm!"

he was panting when we heard the voices coming, more death eaters, it appeared his friends were about to run past, the cheeky boy used this momentary distraction to send another stunner at me, my wand shot up blocking it, but only just. I appraised him, his eyes were narrowed and determined, his stance immensely better, he would make a good duellist one day if he kept it up. "go" I jerked my head towards the open door, "but if I see any more atrocious form from you, you can bet ill be after you again" he paused for a moment, surveying me to see a falsehood, but what he saw was only insanity. And who can rationalize that?

When I saw him again he was fighting off another death eater and with a small amount of pride I saw him take down the death eater.

Where were these feelings coming from? Surely I should be enraged by seeing a colleague felled by a student?

I was never able to finish my train of thought because I was attacked by one of the order's aurors, a young thing, whom I knew was a target for dear bella... I hoped she didnt mind too much if I took care of her.

I was swallowed back into the sweet moments of battle, lost to the world and lost to myself. My mind trained, sharp, focused on the task at hand. The boy I helped completely forgotten.

When asked about his new found ability Neville Longbottom would just furrow his brow, confused by the death eater who had helped him. He had seen her picture on the wanted posters, had read about her escape from azkaban. She was a ruthless killer, arguably the best dueller of the death eaters, famous for her skills before the first war. She was a slytherin, allies with Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who ripped apart his family. She couldve taken him down in a second... but she didnt. Instead she taught him, helped him with legitimate advice.

Perhaps she had nothing else to lose, perhaps she wasnt as evil as people thought.

It would be a long time after the war when Neville Longbottom voiced his experience in the fifth year, a long time before people learned what a confusing person Marty Black nee Sinclair, really was.


	2. Chapter 2: Loyalty

A/N another chapter born of exam procrastination, enjoy and R&R

The escape from Azkaban was a dizzying experience, filled with blurred memories that were no more than figments of my imagination.

There had been a party, a marvellous one i'm sure, but one I was no more a part of than the fairies who lit the house outside. I was cold, bitter, and confused. Part of me wondered if this was all a hallucination, caused by the dementors, another part of me thought that I had died, and this was what lay in the afterlife... or maybe I was a ghost, who hadn't realized I had reached the final, sticky demise all humans meet.

After the festivities all of us were brought to the dark lord individually, when my turn came I fell to my knees, kissing the hem of his robes. "My Lord is most generous, a mass breakout from the unbreakable prison is a great thing" I sang my praises as my mind calculated what was to say next. My voice was hollow, and he seemed to be surveying me.

"Martina Black, how loyal you have been, tell me, how long were you sentenced for?" his hand slid over my head, almost as one would pet a dog they were especially fond of.

"3 consecutive life sentences my lord" I responded dutifully, there was after all nothing else to say.

He beckoned me to stand, and in an instant his presence overpowered my mind, he was looking into the past, into me, and the fabric of my mind. It didn't take him long, after all, most of it was almost dead.

"fourteen years you have served me, fourteen years you have waited for me, never losing hope. Your Lord is a generous one, he rewards those who remain loyal, he values it amongst his friends" he turned to survey her once more, "have you used your wand yet?"

ahh, so that was his plan. Suddenly I understood, he was checking us out, to see the damage the prison had done to our minds, our magic. To see if we were still of any use to him. My mind calculated the the probability of myself being killed, it calculated the exact time it had been since I last used my wand, 14 years, 39 days, and perhaps 90 mins? Defence mottos and phrases ran through my head, inventory of all of the duelling spells I loved pushed to the forefront, I raised a small occlumency wall, much weaker than it ever was in the past, and took my position across from the dark lord.

I wondered if he was going to go easy on me? I was the obvious handicap, not even in top form could I defeat a wizard as him without outside help, perhaps if Dumbledore were by my side we could?

Normally one in this situation would find themselves nervous, body shaking, sweat lining the palms, almost panicking. I wondered about this, why wasn't I? Surely I could possibly be staring death in the eyes right now, was this the reason I had no anxiety? Did I want to die? Or did I simply not feel?

The duel was short, lasting only a minute or two, my reflexes were slow, and wand work sloppy, it would be a while before I was back to what I was, and throughout the fight my heart level never rose above normal. The only strength is exhibited was that of my mind, working, calculating, finding patterns, and capitalizing on them. I was a machine who just needed a bit of oil.

The dark lord seemed pleased, well as pleased as someone with his from could be, had I proven myself to be worthy?

"i will not lie my friend" oh yes, I was being held in esteem by the darkest wizard who ever lived, "i had my doubts about you when you first joined, with that boy of yours, Regulus" his name brought no emotion.

"but I see now, you are a good servant, loyal and cunning. I reward those who are loyal to me greatly, and greeted with the evidence of you devotion to my cause, your reward will be to join that of my inner circle, my most trusted of followers, do you accept?"

I sometimes wondered what he would've done if I denied him.

"you have suffered so much, but I can see that you have overcome one of the largest weaknesses of human beings, emotions. You feel nothing at all, a being with the rational brain only, not corrupted or confused by silly feelings, but something greater. Together Marty, we will do great things"

great things... this idea brought no emotion to me.


End file.
